last night
on the way back from p.f. chang's, she said, from the backseat, conversationally and totally outta the blue, "so i guess if i live another ten years, i'll get to see you ten more times."
a sharp knife through the heart as i realized she might be right--you shouldn't hit people with shit like that while they're driving, i wanted to say when i got my breath back.
instead, i said something like, "don't be silly, ma; we've got lots of time" and changed the subject.
i couldn't explain to my mother, who loves me like nobody else ever will, why i'm a once-a-year son any more than i can explain to my guy v, who loves me even though he shouldn't, why i'm a once-a-week boyfriend.
or how sometimes in the middle of the night i sit bolt-upright in bed, heart pounding and covered in sweat, still half-dreaming that everybody i give a rat's ass about is gone and it's too late.
* * * * *
tonight
my headlights catch maggie bounding down the street to meet me as i turn into the driveway. i pull my bags out and reach down to pet her; she rises on her hind legs and tucks her head into the palm of my outstretched hand.
as i write these words, she's sprawled across my legs and purring. tomorrow she'll be standoffish as ever, but for now she's happy to have me home.
